Amnesia
by KrnYong
Summary: A modern girl wakes up in the world of Assassin's Creed with no memory. She finds a strange flying man to help her, but the road to regaining her memory is more complicated than she originally anticipated. NOT Altair/OC
1. Chapter 1

I was jolted awake by the whinny of a horse. The air was ridiculously hot, and I actually touched my face to make sure it wasn't melting off. My pajamas were sticking to my skin, and the inside of my mouth felt like it had been used for storing cotton balls. A harsh beam of sunlight pierced my eyes as I stood and I winced, although more from the throbbing pain in the back of my head than the light.

I looked around cautiously. Where was I? On second thought, _who_ was I? A shiver ran down my spine and my chest suddenly felt constricted as I realized I had no memory of my past at all. I knew that I was in a smelly stable, but I had no idea of how I had gotten here. The only thing that I knew was that I did not belong here. Everything felt so… foreign.

Shakily, I opened the door to the stables and looked out. There was no one nearby, so I walked slowly around the stables to find any clue of who I might be. Behind the stables was a water trough, presumably for horses, and a wagon. Going past the trough, I couldn't help but sneak a peek at my reflection. I was disappointed to find that I looked rather… well, normal. I had shoulder-length dark brown hair and dark eyes. I also noticed the caked blood around my left ear, and grimaced as I tried to wash it off in vain. I gave up with a sigh, and continued on to the wagon.

It had a very large quantity of hay in it, with a few bags on the side. I opened a few of them, hoping they might hold anything useful. The first bag was oats; the second was oats, and the third... Success! It was a bag full of clothes. I took them out and saw that it had a pair of pants, something that looked like a cloak, and a veil. They were obviously handmade. I got the idea that either I was in a historical reenactment, or this was a third-world country. Musing on this realization, I went back to the stables and peeled my pajamas off in a vacant stall. I put the pants and robe on, but did not know what to do with the veil, so I just used it like a headband to soak up my sweat.

I went back out to the wagon and sat down on the edge. I had no idea of where to go next or what to do. Hoping that I had friends or family nearby, I waited for someone to find me. And that is the exact moment the hay behind me exploded.


	2. Chapter 2

"What the hell?" I leaped off of the wagon as fast as I could, falling on to my hands and knees in my haste. I nervously looked behind me at the haystack. It did not move, nor did any sound emanate from it. Was I going crazy now? I hoped I wasn't schizophrenic or anything. I scooted closer to the wagon and got onto it as slowly as possible, making sure not to make any sounds. I peered into the stack and saw nothing…. Until a flash of white caught my eye; it was a small patch under the hay, but now that I saw it, I knew it had not been there before.

Maybe it was an animal, like a rabbit, or a kid or something. Swallowing my apprehension, I went over and poked it gently. The hay flew in all directions as a hand shot out and grabbed me. I was shoved to the ground and a hooded man crouched over me threateningly with a knife at my neck. He had an array of shining knives at his waist, which was wrapped with a scarlet cloth. He also had a sword. He looked surprised to see that I was only a girl, but then his expression went back into a threatening glare. I shrieked a little, but his other hand covered my mouth. I mentally kicked myself. I had been awake for 30 minutes and I was already going to get killed.

The man said something in a language I didn't understand, but it sounded like a warning. I did my best to look submissive, and my hands shook involuntarily as I lifted them up in surrender. He nodded briefly, and sheathed the knife with disturbing fluidity. As he got up from his crouched position, the sun shone on his features, illuminating a rather serious face with dark hair and a curious scar on his lip.

Suddenly, an image of his face flashed before my eyes. The image felt weirdly detached and far-away, as if I were viewing him from afar. The word "Altaïr" stumbled from my mouth against my will, and the man above me, apparently Altaïr, froze. He had been about to leave, but instead he turned and glared at me with a piercing gaze. He grabbed me by my robes and said something that I didn't understand, although he said it so ominously that I felt my mouth dry up again. I shook my head and said, "I don't know, I don't' know what you're saying, I swear!" I hoped to God that he'd understand English.

"How do you know me?" He said, in barely accented English.

I closed my eyes in relief. "I don't know that either." His grip tightened.

"I mean it! I don't even know my own name, so I have no clue how I know yours!" I babbled; something I did when I was nervous, as I was beginning to realize. "I swear, I don't know how I know you, so please don't kill me! I don't want to die-" I was cut off as Altaïr hit me across head.

* * *

><p>Groggily, I woke up. Again, I had no clue as to where I was, and this time I was in a worse predicament than before. My headbandveil was now across my mouth, my hands were tied behind my back, and the gash behind my ear had started bleeding again. Groaning, I got up. I instantly regretted the action because it felt like I'd tried to break down a door using my skull. I tried not to make any noise, although it hurt like hell, and managed to open my eyes a bit. The first thing I noticed was that I was in a room with a hole in the ceiling. I gaped a bit at it, and guessed that maybe it was for extra ventilation, what with the stifling heat in this country.

The room next to this one was occupied, and I heard two voices speaking. One was rough and sounded somewhat annoyed, while the other sounded almost cheerful. They were speaking a language that wasn't English again, so I couldn't understand them. I looked around cautiously, searching for any possible exits. The man from before, Altaïr, was obviously dangerous, and I was not about to stay if I could help it.

Unfortunately, two hits to the head in one day had left me disoriented, and I tripped on a rug and fell. My graceful plummet left me in a total face-plant. Luckily, I had not broken my nose, just split my lip. Unluckily, the voices next door abruptly stopped, and the white-clothed flying man called Altaïr strode in. He picked me up with another dangerous glare, and said,"I don't know who you are and if you're telling the truth, but we'll find out soon enough." My mouth instantly felt dry again, and panic rose in my chest.

I let out a string of panicked, muffled words, and Altaïr removed the mouth gag. "A-are you going to t-t-torture me?" I stuttered. Apparently, I also stuttered when I got nervous.

Altaïr looked amused at this. "Perhaps. But first, I my master wishes to see you himself." I shuddered.

"I-I'm innocent, I swear! I don't know who you are, just your name, and I don't even know w-what country this is. I think I have am-amnesia or something." I stuttered again. I received another lengthy stare from Altaïr.

"You do not look like a spy, and a spy would not be so foolish as to reveal herself as you did by speaking my name." I nodded as vigorously as I could without hurting my head. "However, you do not look like a civilian here. So either you are a spy, albeit a very stupid one, or you are telling the truth and you have lost your memory." Maybe I should have felt insulted, but instead I felt kind of numb with disbelief. He was accusing me of being a spy, and a dumb one at that. I didn't know that much about myself, but I was beginning to find out that I was kind of prideful. I bristled at his comment, but on the inside. He still scared the crap out of me, after all.

"Whether or not you are a spy, you still know my name somehow. For that reason, I must take you to my master. He is a better judge of character than I am, and he will know what to do with you."

I closed my eyes in relief. So he wouldn't kill me. All I had to do was convince this master guy that I was just some girl with memory loss. And since that was the truth, it wouldn't be so hard. "So…" I started, and cleared my dry throat, "Since I'm either innocent or idiotic, I don't think I'm much of a threat to you. So can you take these ropes off of me? I swear I won't run. I don't even have anywhere to run to. Like I said, I don't exactly know where I am." Altaïr looked thoughtful at this. After a while, he nodded.

"It would be noticeable if I dragged bound, gagged woman with me across the city." He admitted, and cut my bonds with a knife. "But if you make any move to run or scream for help, I will have no choice but to kill you." I nodded frantically.

"Yeah, d-don't worry, I won't, really."

With another nod, Altaïr seemed convinced.

Before he left to go talk to the man in the other room, I asked, "So what city is this again?"

He paused, then seemed to consider. Finally, he answered, "Damascus."

I gaped. "Damascus? As in the Middle East?"

He looked puzzled at this, and didn't say anything. He turned to leave again.

"Wait!" He stopped, this time looking slightly annoyed. I blushed, embarrassed. "I-I… Uh, well, d-do you have anywhere for me to take a shower or a b-bath or something?"

A/N: I appreciate any advice, or any suggestions on the story. If i make Altaïr OC, I'm sorry, just tell me so I can fix it. I haven't actually played the game myself, just watched it being played and read fanfiction on it, so I may not be 100% accurate on things. So help/comments are welcome, just no flames please. :D


	3. Chapter 3

The ride to meet Altaïr 's master was both long and tremendously awkward. I rode with Altaïr on the saddle. He initially made me sit behind him, but after I fell off three times he put me in front. As he lifted me onto the horse, I noticed his left ring finger, which was partially missing. It tugged at something in my memory, but for some reason it didn't really alarm me. I guess it just proved that I really did know Altaïr from my past.

The routine every day was riding, switching horses (he had two), riding some more, and then more riding until sundown. We rested briefly throughout the day, but it seemed to be more for the horses and my benefit than his. If I had a choice though, I would have stripped down to my underwear and jumped in the nearest body of water, because it was hot. You may be thinking 'well duh, it's a desert of course it's hot!' but we'd been traveling for two days and I wanted to keel over and die. I couldn't simply throw my clothes off either: it was cold at night, and I didn't exactly feel comfortable undressing with Altaïr around.

But back to the present, where I was doing the best I could to stay on the horse with a sore butt while maintaining a somewhat comfortable proximity level with Altaïr. It was difficult to say the least, with the horse jolting me around. Contrary to what you may be thinking, the fixation on closeness was not only because it was awkward. I'll try to put it delicately, but, well, Altaïr stunk. With his arms on either side of me, his B.O. was amplified. The horse-smell didn't help either. I was terrified of insulting him, so I kept it to myself. Besides, I expected I didn't smell like roses either.

As soon as we got to the nearest village, I begged him to stop and let me take a bath. He looked annoyed and said, "Why?"

I was horrified. "What?" I think I might have screamed, because now Altaïr looked even more peeved. "Uh, I-I mean, what do you mean by that, sir?" I was laying it on thick, I know, but what can I say? I'm a wimp.

"There is no need for a bath. While we travel, you will sweat and get dirty again. It is much more practical to wait until we arrive at our destination, then we can bathe and get new clothes."

"But…" I wanted to say 'I feel gross!' but that might be a tad immature, so I nodded. Damn his logic.

I also found it _extremely_ unpleasant the first time I had to pee. We'd been riding for about 40 minutes when I couldn't hold it anymore. I cleared my throat, "Um…" He didn't hear me, so I tried again, "A-Altaïr." The words were whipped away by the wind. I cleared my throat again. "Altaïr!" This time I said it louder. He grunted. I took that to mean 'what' and said, "I kinda hafta pee."

"What?"

"I gotta go."

"Where must you go?" The poor guy was befuddled.

"You know… Nature's call? Pee-pee?" I was blushing redder than a tomato. What was the proper word for pee again?

"…What? Have you gone mad, woman?"

By this time, I was about to burst. "I have to urinate, right now!_ Get me off of this horse!_"

I've never seen Altaïr move faster. He stopped, jumped off, and grabbed me bodily off of the horse. Then he turned around. I was mortified. "C-can you please cover your ears?" I was still blushing.

"Why, what now?" Altaïr growled, clearly uncomfortable.

"I-I don't want you to hear me urinate!" I spit out, and he did as he was told.

I don't even want to say what happened when _he _had to go.

* * *

><p>On the fourth night, we camped early because horses were exhausted, and Altaïr was worried of overheating them. I snorted in indignation (very quietly, of course,) because he wouldn't stop when <em>I <em>got tired. He didn't build a big fire for fear of attracting bandits and the like. We made do with a paltry dinner of dried meat and fruit and went to sleep next to the horses for heat. At least, Altaïr did. I was still terrified of them.

When I awoke, Altaïr was gone. He was probably taking care of business or whatever, so I took the chance to do what I'd wanted to do for a long time. Reaching surreptitiously under my robes, I carefully shimmied out of my pants. During the heat of day, they'd been providing way too much insulation, and it was amazing to finally have them off. I jumped around a little, enjoying my new freedom, and even did part of the Macarena and electric slide. (I was feeling kind of retro.) Unfortunately, Altaïr came back at that exact moment. I froze. "I-I was just… uh… stretching." I thought up some lame excuse.

"You are a dancer?" Altaïr asked, in an incredulous tone that made me bristle a little. What was he trying to say, I wasn't dancer material?

"No, I just felt like it I guess."

He nodded, obviously not understanding, and gestured for me to get on the horse. I did so, and we were off again. While we were riding, Altaïr spoke. "We are nearing the city. We will probably be there by today, or early tonight." I felt both nervous and excited. Finally, I would get the chance to meet Altaïr's master. If all went well, I could convince him that I was just some kid that needed to go home, wherever that was. I vaguely knew that wherever home was, it was somewhere in the states.

"You're master's a nice guy, right? I mean, he's not going to torture me or anything, I hope. "I mused, trying to joke about it.

"No, if you are an innocent, then he will not harm you," Altaïr reassured me. By this time, I think he was leaning towards the idea of me being a weirdo amnesiac rather than a spy.

I nodded, but by the time we got to the city gates, I was feeling more apprehensive than ever. Before we entered, he warned me to I keep my veil covering my head. I agreed, but only because I didn't want to offend anyone or something.

We rode into the city, the horses dodging people left and right. When we reached a stable, Altaïr got off and helped me off. A man came out and took the horses, and Altaïr gave him a coin. With a nod, he gestured for me to follow. I looked up at the looming fortress-castle-fortress thing on top of the mountain. "This is where your master lives?" I asked, completely in awe. Altaïr nodded. We were stopped along the way a few times by guards dressed in the same white clothes as Altaïr. More than once, the guards quirked an eyebrow at me, and said something that sounded snarky to Altaïr. I guessed Altaïr didn't have many friends, because the people that we'd met so far were either intimidated by him or hated his guts.

We went along until finally we arrived at what looked like an office. I saw a desk, papers, and even scrolls lying around, and what surprised me was that there were no #2 pencils or even one ball-point pen. This may have been a third-world country, but pencils and pens were practically ubiquitous now. I brushed it off and turned my attention to the white-bearded man behind the desk. He was wearing dark robes and looking out a window, facing away from Altaïr and me. After a while, he turned around. I couldn't suppress a small gasp as memory flashed in my head. I saw the white-bearded man holding a glowing orb in his hand. "Al Mualim!" I burst out. I immediately covered my mouth.

Al Mualim asked me a question I couldn't understand, his eyebrows raised.

"She claims not to understand Arabic," Altaïr supplied from behind me.

"I see…" Al Mualim nodded, thoughtful, then repeated his earlier question to me in English, "Who are you, and how do you know who I am?"

I took a deep breath. Whether he believed me or not would pretty much decide my fate. "I have no m-memory of who I am, nor do I know how I ended up in this country. I d-didn't know your name until I saw your face, and it's the same scenario with Al-Altaïr too." I clenched my teeth together, trying to fight my nervous stuttering.

Al Mualim asked a few questions to Altaïr, and they had a conversation in Arabic, leaving me completely out of the loop. "Come closer, child." I moved closer, and he gave me a lengthy stare. Finally, he nodded.

"Like Altaïr, I detect no malice in you. However, you do know both of us, and whether from a past memory or not, I will require that you stay here with us."

"Wait, no, I have to go home!" I protested. Al Mualim raised a bushy white eyebrow.

"I thought you did not remember anything from your past."

"I don't, but I do know with absolute certainty that this is not where I live." I said as resolutely as I could. My words had the opposite effect of my intentions.

Al Mualim found my comment to be amusing and simply chuckled while nodding.

"Nevertheless, you will stay here for the time being. If it is as you say, then you have nowhere to go anyways. We will provide you with hospitality until you regain your memories."

I sighed and agreed, as this was better than nothing. At least he had decided that I was an innocent person and not a spy. I looked up to say my thanks, but my eye caught a strange symbol hanging from a number of banners. They were shaped like an upside-down 'V', with a curve on the bottom. I felt a weird headache as something from another memory began to creep in. Then, another memory flash occurred. I saw the symbol on a piece of paper. I was drawing it on a paper, and looking bored. I was saying something to someone else. I concentrated, and I figured it out. I was saying, "I wish I could be an assassin too…" The past-me paused, then said, "I wish I could be an assassin in the Crusades, you know? Like Altaïr was. He's so cool, even though he's ancient."

The memory abruptly ended, and I was silent, stunned by my realization. Altaïr was an assassin! And so was Al Mualim. That's why Altaïr had all those weapons, and wore the same uniform as the guards did, and it explained the missing finger. Somehow, I knew that the finger was sacrificed for a hidden blade. I looked up, and the blood drained from my face. The fact that they were assassins was not the only problem. The past-me had stated that Altaïr was 'ancient' and 'during the Crusades.' That was hundreds of years ago! If my memory was accurate and I was sane, then that meant somehow, I had been transported to the past. With a worried expression, Altaïr took a step towards me. "What is wrong?"

Then, I did something totally uncharacteristic of me. I fainted.

Hoped you enjoyed it. Review please!


	4. Chapter 4

I don't think I ever did a disclaimer so here it is, the first, last, and only:

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Assassins Creed, I only own my OCs.

A/N: I'm really sorry for the late update, I know it's been over a month but I was really trying to figure out how exactly I wanted this story to go, and experienced some writer's block as a result. To compensate, it is a double update! As a little warning, this is where the story begins to deviate a bit from the norm. To anyone who wanted an average girl-falls-into-AC story plot, I'm sorry but, I decided that I wanted to have a different kind of plot for mine. This is also going to be a somewhat Mary Sue-bashing story (not severely, but some,) so if you don't like that, it can't be helped because it's a part of the plot. Otherwise, please enjoy!

* * *

><p>When I awoke, there was a dull feeling of disbelief hanging over me. I could not get my mind to comprehend the fact that I was in the 11th century in a fortress full of assassins. I got up slowly and looked around. I was lying on a cot in a relatively small room. There was also a very tall girl standing next to the door. "Were you waiting for me to wake up this whole time?" I asked incredulously. Smiling, she shook her head and said something in Arabic. I guessed she was saying she couldn't understand English. With another, apologetic grin she gestured for me to stay in the room and then left. When she came back a few minutes later a very short, European-looking girl followed her in. "My name is Amilia, how are you feeling?" she greeted me.<p>

I shrugged, "Okay, I guess." She looked confused. I realized that 'okay' was a modern word, so I quickly said "I feel fine."

"That is good. Al Mualim has said that you are to be treated as a guest and that for the duration of your stay you may use this room. If you are in need of anything, just ask."

"Then can I get some new clothes too? These robes smell pretty bad."

Amilia nodded, "Follow Ayesha, she'll show you." She turned and said something in Arabic to the tall girl, who I assumed was Ayesha. She waved her hand at me to follow. After a few twists and turns up a hall and down some stairs, she led me into a room where she opened some clothing chests. She gently pushed me forwards, and took some of the clothes out. Most of them were long robes and the like, but I wasn't about to complain. I'd much rather go around in robes and veils than in my own dirty, sweaty clothes. I took a few that looked like they would fit and thanked Ayesha. I managed to get across that I wanted to take a bath with some exaggerated scrubbing motions, and, laughing, she led me to a bath area for women. When I was clean, I put on my new clothes and walked around the fortress looking for Altaïr.

He was, after all, the only person here that I knew for sure spoke English, besides Amilia, and the only person that I actually remembered... besides Al Mualim. Okay, fine I just wanted to see him. Something about his face and voice were very familiar to me, and that was comforting. Not to mention he wasn't so bad to look at. At all. Anyways, when I found him, he was also clean and wearing blindingly white assassin garbs. 'What the hell?' I thought as I stared at the ridiculously white cloth in shock. 'How is that possible? How does he keep them so white; does he use bleach?' There was not even a stray speck of blood or dirt marring the fabric. I quickly made a mental note to ask Amilia about it later.

I ambled over to Altaïr, who was turned away from me, and was about to poke his shoulder to get his attention when he said, "Are you well enough to be walking around? You fainted earlier."

I just about jumped three feet into the air.

"How in the world did you know it was me?"

"Your footsteps are light, like a woman's, yet you have a way of walking that is rather like a man." Altaïr turned and spoke. His face was still serious, but his lips were barely twitching, the only sign that he was being humorous. I didn't know whether I should laugh or smack him. Since the latter would entail hitting a very dangerous, armed, much older man I went with the former.

"I guess all that assassin stuff you do really does pay off, what with the super hearing and all." I said back good-naturedly.

His countenance turned rigid (more than usual, that is,) and his voice hardened. "How did you know I was an assassin?" He asked, glowering at me.

"Um, w-well, that is, I remembered. I saw the Assassin symbol and r-remembered that you and everyone here is an assassin. That's why I f-f-fainted," I half-lied. Altaïr's eyes narrowed, but he relaxed his grip.

"I will trust what you say, because Al Mualim saw no ill-intent in you."

I breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you." I also made a mental note to be careful what I said. I didn't have many memories, but what I did remember seemed to be getting me into more and more trouble. It would be even worse if I said I was somehow from the future; I'd probably be locked in an insane asylum or something. Looking around, I suddenly noticed that there were quite a large number of assassins also in the courtyard, just standing around as if they were waiting for someone. A bit hesitantly, I asked, "What's going on here? Why's everyone just standing around?"

"We are expecting a visitor, one of our own assassins."

"Oh… I see. Is this person important?" I saw Al Mualim standing in the center of the courtyard, also waiting for this assassin to arrive. How important was one assassin that the Master himself came out to wait for him?

"Well-" Altaïr began, but was cut off as the hooded figure of the expected assassin entered the courtyard and walked confidently over to Al Mualim. Everyone watched as the figure greeted the Master. Al Mualim nodded in greeting, and the person turned to greet the rest of us, pulling back his hood as he did so. He had long, blonde hair, wide glass-green eyes, and was very tall and skinny. He also happened to be a woman.

"Interesting, I didn't know women could be assassins. This lady certainly doesn't look like one; she looks more like a weak, pampered princess," I thought, with my eyes on her manicured nails and flowing blonde hair. With a furious snapping motion of her neck, the female assassin whipped around, her eyes trained on me. At first I thought she was psychic or something, but then I realized that I had been speaking my thoughts out loud. I literally slapped my mouth, and blushing, apologized profusely.

"Interesting that you should say so, girl," said the lady assassin in a melodic, sharp voice. "My name is Belinda; I am the daughter of a prominent family of nobles in Britain. I was brought to Jerusalem as a child with my family, because my father was needed there. My entire family, except for me, died tragically because of a Templar conspiracy, and Al Mualim found me while I was on the streets. I became an assassin…" At this point, my eyes hazing over, and I unintentionally began to zone out. She went on, telling me her entire autobiography, and it didn't seem to be stopping any time soon. I wasn't purposely being rude, mind you, but I was still tired from the long journey from Damascus to Masyaf, (hey! I just remembered this city's name!) and her droning on wasn't exactly helping me stay awake.

"Are you even listening to me?" The melodic voice asked sharply. I jolted, eyes clearing as I was taken out of my stupor.

"Uh, um, w-well…" I paused, and then squeaked out as quietly as I could, "no."

Her golden eyebrows rose, and then fell as she gave me a blood-curdling glare. For an eerie moment, I could have sworn that her cold green eyes flashed a dark purple. "Well then." She smiled a sickeningly sweet smile and calmly went back to Al Mualim as if nothing had happened. With my less-than-assassin hearing, I could barely make out that she was asking him about me. Straining to eavesdrop, I heard her say the words 'prostitute', which made my eye twitch, and 'servant', which also made my eye twitch, though not as much. Once they finished their conversation, he left and the assassins that had been waiting around began to bombard Belinda with questions. Surprisingly, (or not so very surprisingly,) there was one or two of them that confessed their love for her. The entire scene felt surreal.

I was not a native to this fortress, and I was no expert, but something about Belinda felt… off, like she didn't belong. Which was weird, because if anyone belonged here it was her, I was the actual outsider here. I turned back to Altaïr, who was one of the few assassins that didn't rush over to Belinda once Al Mualim had left. "Wow, was she always this popular?" I asked, and Altaïr turned to look at me. He had an undecipherable expression on his face and a puzzled, far-away look in his eyes.

"I… I don't know…" He paused for a while, and then finally shook his head a few times as if he was clearing his thoughts. His expression shifted, yet remained unreadable. "What am I talking about, of course she was, and she is well-liked by nearly everyone here."

I nodded. "I see. I guess I do deserve her not liking me, what with my rude comment earlier. I really was sorry about that though, I was being stupid."

"Yes, you were." Altaïr affirmed, nodding along with me. I glanced at him, again not sure if he was joking or not. I decided he was being serious, but kept my stupid self quiet. After a while, the general hubbub of Belinda's arrival died down, and the assassins went back whatever they were doing and I went back to my room. I threw myself onto the cot and buried my face into the pillow. Groaning, I hit myself on my head a few times. My big fat mouth had gotten me into trouble… again! I hoped that this wouldn't become a habit for me.

Getting up slowly, I decided that I would have to be a mature (however old I was)-year-old and go say sorry to Belinda. I had started us off on the wrong foot, and maybe if I apologized we'd end up being friends, or at least be acquaintances. At that moment, someone knocked on my door. I got up and opened it to see Ayesha and Amilia. They came in and Ayesha, looking somewhat apologetic about something, spoke in rapid Arabic. As she finished speaking, beamed at me with a cheerful grin, and then nudged Amilia for translation.

"Amilia wants me to tell you that Al Mualim said that you have to work in servant duties in return for staying here. You've been assigned to be helping with laundry and sometimes, helping in the kitchen… we both want you to know that we'll help you with as much as we can, and this way, you'll be able to get to know everyone around here faster anyways." Amilia said, smiling also.

Then, smile falling, she looked shiftily around and closed the door. "I thought you should know this was Belinda's idea…"

'Well there goes my friendship idea,' I thought, 'out the window.' I wasn't upset that I was being made to work, as it felt like a good way to earn my keep, but it was her underhanded methods of trying to humble me down that really made me mad. Ayesha said something in Arabic, and Amilia translated, "She acts very kindly towards men, but towards girls she is actually quite haughty."

I frowned. "Why is she so… two-faced?" I asked Amilia.

"Two-faced?" she laughed, "that is an interesting way of putting it, not to mention very accurate. I don't know why she acts like that; she's been like that since…" She trailed off, an odd look in her eyes, and she muttered, "Has she always…" Suddenly, with a blink, the look was gone, and she smiled again. "Well, for as long as we've known her, she's been a bit arrogant."

I nodded, and following the two girls, went into the kitchen. Lunch was being made, and it smelled delicious, whatever it was. I (luckily, as I probably would have ruined it,) didn't have to do much actual cooking. Mostly, I did things like cleaning, throwing out the kitchen waste, and act pretty much acting as a gofer. It wasn't so bad, but after a couple of hours of work, I was beat. As I tentatively sat down on a stool to rest, Ayesha gestured for me to follow and I was whisked away to a river, where laundry was being done. The water was ice-cold after the heat of the kitchen, and the stark white assassin robes took a lot of washing before the various stains of blood and mud came out.

"So this is how Altaïr's robes are so white: female manual labor and lots of soapwort!" I muttered to myself as I rubbed at a tunic. "Oh, the injustice!" I cried, inciting a few stares from the women. I ducked my head and kept scrubbing. I had learned that soapwort was a kind of plant that was used as, well, soap. It wasn't nearly as useful as bleach was, but it did the job… if you scrubbed at it long enough, which was about twenty minutes of nonstop work… on one piece of clothing. When I was finally released from laundry duty, I had only a few hours of rest before it was dinnertime. With a tired sigh, I went into the kitchens again. Before long, it was almost sundown.

As I lay in bed, I was so tired that I couldn't even sleep. My poor hands were rubbed red and raw, and my feet ached from standing all day. If the rest of my stay in Masyaf was going to be like this, I was really in for it.

* * *

><p>If anyone wants to know, soapwort was actually used by Syrians to wash wool products… actually I found that somewhere on the internet so I'm not 100% sure it's true, but it fit in nicely so I put it in. :D<p>

And the part where Altaïr says she walks like a man it's because she doesn't exactly walk around daintily, so that's how Altaïr knew it was her.

Oh, and another thing. I didn't mention the time frame that this is occurring in, and I'm thinking this story would make sense is that it takes place a little after AC: Altaïr's Chronicles and a little before the 'first' AC game. And if it somehow turns out that that is also impossible with the timeline, then just willingly suspend your disbelief please, lol.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter is a little short, because I wanted a little comical interlude before the real action begins! Or… it could be that I'm lazy and wanted to do a really short second chapter for the double update. :P You can decide the real reason for yourself.

* * *

><p>A dim beam of sunlight brushed my face, and I turned, trying to escape it. The ray continued to shine into the room, and finally I let out an annoyed huff before getting up. It had been about two weeks and a half since I'd been in Masyaf, and I was getting quite used to the routine. From literally sunrise (which I could see from my window,) to sunset, I had a schedule. I had a few days off sometimes, but mostly I was subjected to hard work.<p>

In the morning, I had to help with making breakfast. I had a few hours to kill until lunchtime, and then I was to go straight to either mending clothes or washing them. After that, I had a few more hours to myself until I either helped with dinner in the kitchen or went around running errands for Samira, who was the cook, or, sometimes, various assassins. Twice I had to be a gofer for Belinda, which was hell because she made me do the things she knew I wasn't good at. I was getting quite good at doing laundry, for example, or mending clothes, but she ran me on errands like sending messages, even though I couldn't speak Arabic.

The tedious schedule began again, and after breakfast, I decided to do something interesting with my free time. I had only seen a small fraction of the fortress, as I had only needed to know my working and living areas. But now, I was going out into the great unknown. I would explore the fortress! I set out in a random direction from the kitchen in an adventurous mood, and after exploring a few hallways, I ended up outside. I was completely and totally lost, and now I felt kind of dense for wandering off without a guide or a way to figure out how to get to the river.

Looking for someone I knew, or at least, someone that spoke English, I wandered around. It seemed that I had ended up in some kind of training area, as there were a few assassins throwing knives at targets and such. My eyes were drawn to a circle, with two men fighting. Both of them had taken their upper clothing off due to the heat of midday, and were fighting without weapons.

It was a close match, but finally one of the men won, landing a kick that knocked the other man over. They both smiled and laughed in their brotherly camaraderie. The first thing that popped into my head was, 'wow, they totally have a bromance going on.' The second was, 'and a lot of muscle…' The third was, 'Altaïr is so… wait, what? That's Altaïr? I guess this means he does have _some_ friends.' Slapping myself from my slack jawed state, I peered more closely at one of the men. Did he have short brown hair? Check. Scar on lip? Check. Piercing eyes that stare into your soul? Ch-

I blushed. Both Altaïr and his sparring partner were staring at me. I rewound the last few minutes of my memory and realized that the self-inflicted slap to my face had been pretty loud. I felt my face heat up again. 'Damn it, stop blushing already! You were just looking, you've done nothing wrong!' I yelled in my head. Altaïr was still staring, and the other man suddenly began to snicker. I face-palmed, "I said my thoughts out loud, didn't I."

Slowly, Altaïr nodded, his lips twitching again, like he was resisting the urge to laugh. ""It's not me; it's my brain-to-mouth filter. I'm going to go over there and see if the Earth will swallow me whole now." I mumbled, and promptly went back inside. I, of course, got lost and couldn't find my way back until Amilia somehow found me and led me to the kitchen, where they needed my help cutting veggies and cleaning the floor. (Not at the same time, or course.)

When I was finished, I had more time on my hands, but didn't want to end up in another embarrassing situation like before, so I asked Ayesha and Amilia to lead me around the place. Amilia took me to the other living areas and showed me where she slept, and Ayesha took me to her favorite place: the library. I gaped at the large collection of books and scrolls, and was dismayed to find that most were in Arabic or some other language. A few books were in English, but they were all about boring topics like philosophy and stuff.

As I turned the corner of a bookcase, I ran straight into a person. With a startled yelp, I fell backwards, but before I could fall the man caught me and helped me steady myself. "Thank y-" I stared at his face. I knew this man… He was the man who had laughed at me in the sparring ring, this was Altaïr's friend! I stared harder, and the man frowned, starting to back away. He was also very familiar in his own way. I hadn't noticed it in my flustered state before, but now that I saw him…

"You're Malik!" I burst out.

Sooo… Did you love it? Hate it? Tell me in reviews, please. I always would like new opinions and advice to improve my writing and of course the story. Oh, and I haven't even really thought of a name for my protagonist, so if you want to make a few suggestions, they would be much appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: If anyone is even still following this, I have to apologize for not updating in an entire year... I didn't really mean for that to happen, but I just never got the time or inspiration to keep going. I do have to say that I don't think I can update regularly because I am in college now... But I'll try to do it once a month or so. No promises, though. So now that that's over, here's the chapter!

"Have we met before?" Malik asked, still holding my arm in a vice-grip. It wasn't very comfortable.

"Um, yeah, I was the girl at the training ring, remember?" I blushed, trying not to remember the mortifying scene from earlier.

Malik snorted in amusement and let my arm loose, "Ah, so that was you." I nodded. His smile faded. "But I do not remember giving you my name."

I gulped. "Um, Altaïr told me about you?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"...Telling you?"

Malik stared at me blankly. I cringed. Finally, he asked, "So what is your name?"

"Um, I have absolutely no idea." He raised an eyebrow. "I have memory loss or something, I have no clue as to who I am or where I'm from."

"I see."

I nodded awkwardly and tried to find a way to discreetly leave. Luckily, I was saved by Amilia calling me. I said a quick goodbye to Malik, who still looked suspicious, and scurried away.

Amilia gave me a sympathetic look as she explained that Belinda, of all people, had been asking for me. For what, she had no idea, but it was surely nothing good. "Be careful!" Amilia called as she left me at Belinda's room door. Dread filled me as I knocked three times.

Belinda's unnaturally sweet voice rang out, "Enter!"

I did so, and immediately gagged at the stench. There was the sickening smell of at least fifty different perfumes all mixed together lingering in the air. Belinda sat on a mound of plush cushions, all arranged on top of her luxurious, European-style bed. Her glass-green eyes flicked briefly to me, but she said nothing in greeting.

"You called for me?" I managed to sputter in between coughs.

Belinda didn't even look up from filing her impeccable nails. "Yes, from now on, I have decided that you will be my personal servant."

"E-excuse me?" My mouth fell open, "What do you mean, 'personal servant'? This is insane, Belinda, there is no way Al Mualim agreed to this!"

My outburst finally made Belinda look up with a venomous smile. Her eyes were now sky blue. I shivered involuntarily.

"First of all, you are to call me Lady Belinda from now on, as a show of respect. Secondly, I personally spoke to Al Mualim about this matter and he agreed wholeheartedly." Her grin widened, "From now on, you will live in the room next to mine. This way, you can come whenever I call you with this bell." She gestured to a small silver bell on her desk, "You will clean my room every day and wash all my clothes. Is that understood?"

I felt sick to my stomach. Oh God, there was no way this was really happening.

Belinda's suddenly pink eyes narrowed, obviously dissatisfied with my silence. Sharply, she asked again, "I _said,_ is that clear?"

"Yes, Belin- I mean, Lady Belinda." I felt even more nauseous. What kind of coward was I that I couldn't even stand up to her? Part of me wanted to argue that I wasn't a common servant, but the other part reminded me that I was just a guest in this fortress, and that Al Mualim himself had agreed to this.

I swallowed my misgivings about this, and asked if I could leave to get my personal effects from my old room. Belinda, with a smug look, allowed me to go. As soon as I was out the door, I ran to Ayesha and Amilia's room to tell them the terrible news.


	7. Chapter 7

My new room was tiny. It was actually an old servant's quarters converted into... a new servant's quarters. With a sigh, I settled down onto the tiny cot and tried to get comfortable.

It had been a week since I was commissioned into being "Lady" Belinda's personal maidservant, and to be honest, it wasn't that bad. Okay, it was horrible, considering Belinda was a brat, but I no longer had to participate in kitchen duties and clean the fortress with the other servants. My duties were now mostly relegated to Belinda's room, which, while large, was somewhat manageable.

Belinda, on the other hand, was an absolute terror. She demanded immaculate floors and perfectly arranged cushions, and she wanted her clothes washed the day after she wore them, which meant I was constantly doing laundry. My hands had developed calluses that I swore were an inch thick by now, and I was always sore.

Speaking of the devil, the moment I finally began to relax, I heard the tinkling of a tiny silver bell. Groaning, I got up. The Lady Belinda called.

"Yes, Lady Belinda?" I droned monotonously as I stuck my head into her room. And did a double take. Belinda's previously flaxen, platinum-blonde hair was now a deep, rich red. "What the hell happened to your hair?! It's red! Wasn't it blonde? Why is it red?" I panicked a little as my brain struggled to take it in.

"What in the world are you talking about?" Belinda scoffed, tossing said hair over her shoulder in a ruby cascade, "My hair has always been red."

"But... but..." My mouth flapped open and closed like a fish.

"If you insist on looking like an idiot, at least do it while being useful. Go get me a looking-glass." Belinda waved me out. Numbly, I nodded and left the room.

When I came back with the mirror, I had another mini heart-attack. The door to Belinda's room was slightly cracked open, and who of all people was in there but Altaïr. Trying to be sneaky, I peeked in to eavesdrop. But alas, the two were speaking in hushed tones, and I couldn't hear a thing. With a nod, Altaïr got up, obviously to leave. Hurriedly, I slipped behind a corner so he wouldn't see me. Surprisingly, my tactic worked, and he went on his merry way without noticing me.

In that split second, I decided I would follow Altaïr. My curiosity won out over my survival instincts, and so I began my (awful) attempt at stalking him. I thought I had been sneaky, but while leaving the fortress, Altaïr suddenly turned around. I, being a complete idiot, ran straight into him and fell on my back.

"Why are you following me." Altaïr hissed, picking me up by the collar of my robes.

"I-I-I was just wondering what you were doing in Belinda's room!" I blurted out.

"That is none of your business." Oh God. Was Altaïr _blushing? _Oh, Hell no.

"You don't... like her, do you?" I asked, suddenly horrified.

He looked away, but didn't deny it.

"_What is_ _wrong with you?_" I suddenly screamed. Startled, Altaïr dropped me, and I fell to the ground unceremoniously. Winded but not finished being angry, I dusted myself off and jabbed Altaïr in the chest. "Belinda is a _bitch! _She's a horrible person! Hell, she might not even bea real person! Her eyes are constantly changing color and her hair was blonde but it's red now! Red!" I stepped closer to Altaïr, still jabbing my finger at him. My frustration with everyone, especially Belinda, was all being released in a furious rant, "I don't know why I'm the only person who sees it! How do you not? For God's sake, nobody's eyes can be bubblegum pink!"

With a sharp intake of breath, Altaïr grabbed the finger I had been poking him with, and I stopped my tirade, abruptly reminded that this was an assassin I had just been yelling at. But as I looked at his face, I realized that he wasn't angry but extremely confused.

"You are... right." His golden eyes were clouded with bewilderment, and he let go of my finger with a thoughtful look. "Belinda is supposedly an assassin, and yet I do not remember meeting her before that day in the courtyard. Why did I feel that I had known her for a long time? How did I not notice her strange eyes before?"

I gaped at him for a split second, and then relief replacing my apprehension, I hugged him round the neck. Altaïr immediately froze under my hug, but I didn't care. I was overjoyed that someone other than me had finally seen the oddness of Belinda. I wasn't crazy!

"Just because I agree with you does not give you permission to embrace me." Altaïr said, prying my arms off of him. Embarrassed, I peeled myself off and apologized. Once that was over though, I told him how I had recently been consigned to being Belinda's servant, and the strangeness of Al Mualim's submissiveness to her suggestions.

Altaïr nodded and looked worried. "This is serious indeed, if Al Mualim himself has been so directly affected."

"So what do we do?" I was in action mode.

He looked at me incredulously. "'We'? _I _will go and try to investigate what kind of sorcery Belinda has used to infiltrate Masyaf... _You _will go back to being Belinda's obedient servant."

I groaned in disappointment.

Altaïr smirked evilly. "But... while you are acting the part, it would be beneficial for you to keep an eye on her. Since you are the one who seems to notice the strange things about her, try and see what she means to do in Masyaf. But be careful and do not get caught by her."

I grinned. "Sure thing!" This spying thing was going to be good...


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I have to issue a slight warning for this chapter... It talks about menstruation! :O As long as I'm making this somewhat realistic, I figured it would have to be brought up, considering my OC is a girl. Sorry if it makes anyone reading uncomfortable, but hey, it's a fact of life. Anyways, please enjoy and review :D

I was awake, but I absolutely refused to get up, Belinda's conspiracy be damned. Curled up in the fetal position, I let out a half-hearted groan as Amilia incessantly knocked on my door. "Elaine! Are you well?" I grabbed my pillow and covered my head, trying to block out the relentless noise. Through the thin padding of the cushion, I still heard Amilia's muffled cries of "Elaine!"

I had been thinking long and hard about my name, and the one that felt the most like mine was 'Elaine.' Amilia and Ayesha immediately began using the name, but everyone else pretty much called me 'girl.' "No, I am _not _well, Amilia!" I managed to scowl into the pillow. I was having unbearable cramps, and dread filled my entire being as I contemplated how to explain this to her. With a sigh, I hesitantly got up and hobbled to the door. As soon as I had undone the lock, Amilia barged right in with Ayesha, a bit more subdued, following.

"What is wrong? Are you sick? Do you have a fever, you look terrible!" Amilia burst out, her words running into one undecipherable sentence. I quickly shut the door and got ready to explain my problem.

"I'm not sick, Amilia. I'm just not feeling so great; calm down." My words did the exact opposite of calming her. She immediately slapped a hand to her mouth and whispered, "You... are not with child, are you?"

"What?" I laughed in utter incredulity. "I just said I'm not feeling well, how did you jump to that wild conclusion?"

"Feeling unwell in the mornings is a sign of pregnancy, is it not?" Amilia said, a bit indignant that I'd laughed at her.

"Well, yes, but there are lots of othermore _rational_ reasons for feeling sick. For goodness sake..." I sighed, deciding to just get it over with, "I think my period's going to start soon."

"Period?" Amilia looked even more confused. Stupid me, I'd forgotten that 'period' was slang.

"It's going to be my time of the month... You know, bleeding?" I buried my face in my pillow, embarrassed to have to say this out loud.

"Oh! I see!" Amilia nodded sympathetically and translated for Ayesha.

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. What do you use to, you know, keep clean?"

Ayesha, once she understood, nodded sagely. She spoke in Arabic, and Amelia translated, "Do not worry, we will aid you!" She gestured for me to get up and dress, and then follow her. Through the long, winding passageways, she led me to a closet full of linen.

Amilia explained, "These are old cloths that we do not use any more. They are clean, though, all we have to do is rip them to size." Ayesha gave me a few and we followed her to her room. She went to a chest and took out a leather cord that looked vaguely like a belt or girdle. Gesturing, she made it clear that I was to wear it under my dress. Speaking softly, she also gave me a few pins.

"She says these are extras she has kept. They are yours, now."

I gratefully took the objects, and Ayesha showed me how they were to be used. Apparently the strips of cloths were to be layered on top of each other and then pinned to the leather belt. I would have to hand-wash the cloths myself, but it was better than having nothing. I nodded my thanks and went back to my room, wrapping the materials in a blanket and stashing it under my bed to keep it out of the way. Curling back into the fetal position, all I had left was to wait for the horror to arrive.

Unfortunately, Belinda's silver bell called me once more. I ignored it. The bell rang again. I stuffed my fingers into my ears. I wasn't moving today, especially not for Belinda.

"Are you ignoring me?!" Belinda angrily barged into my room, banging open the door.

"If you could've come in yourself, what are you ringing a damn bell for?" I retorted, not in the mood to deal with her.

"What did you just say?" Belinda sputtered.

"Get the hell out or I swear I'll tear your face off and feed it to you!" I growled, staring directly into her candy-red eyes. She gawped for a few seconds, before leaving in a huff. I guess even Lady Belinda was no match for a PMS-ing girl. I snorted, and went back to writhing in misery.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Happy belated New Year! :P Found some time to write, so here's chapter 9. It's mostly dialogue, but the chapter after this will definitely be more action-packed as our two main characters start to figure the whole mystery out. Enjoy and review, please.

My week of hell was finally over, but my problems still continued. When Belinda found out that I wasn't going to take her crap while I was PMS-ing, she went directly to Al Mualim and got him to increase my workload. Now, not only did I have to clean Belinda's room every day and do her laundry, I had to clean other areas of the fortress and do kitchen work as well. I was so tired while scrubbing the floor that I barely even looked up when two mud-stained boots entered into my peripheral vision.

"Have you learned anything new about Belinda?" A stern voice spoke from the boots' general direction.

I finally looked up and saw that it was Altaïr. Shrugging, I replied, "Her hair's white today, yesterday it was brown. And her eyes changed color three times. Other than that, no."

"Hmmm..." He took a leaning stance against a nearby wall as he pondered this, "I've been asking around to see if anyone else remembers Belinda before her "return" in the courtyard, and I've noticed something completely disturbing."

"More disturbing than a bitch with mood-rings for eyes?"

Altaïr gave me a sour look at my bad language, but nodded, "Yes. It seems that whenever I ask about Belinda, such as where she's from or about her color changing hair, peoples' eyes glaze over and they seem to go into a trance of some sort."

I perked up at this, getting up from my kneeling position on the floor, "Yeah, I noticed that too!"

"I would suspect it is hypnotism but I highly doubt a single woman could have been able to influence the minds of the entire Assassin order by herself in such a manner."

I rubbed my chin as if I had facial hair of my own and nodded sagely, "And yet it does beg the question: How come _you _were able to pop out of the hypnotism? Why is it that Ayesha and Amilia, and even Al Mualim, are unable to snap out of it while you immediately realized that I was telling the truth?"

Altaïr frowned at this, even more confused, "And how is it that _you_ noticed these things without anyone even having to point it out for you? I did not think Belinda's appearance and behavior were strange until you brought it up..." He gave me an intense look, eyes narrowed in suspicion, "And we still have the mystery of how you knew my name when you saw me for the first time, not to mention the fact that you speak in an odd accent of English and use words that I have never heard before."

My eyes widened and I lifted my hands up to show I wasn't a threat. "Look, I'm just as confused as you are on that; if I knew I would've told you, I swear."

Altaïr stared at me for a few more moments, and then nodded. "Fine. For now, the circumstances of your memory loss and ability to notice Belinda's strangeness are secondary to finding out what she plans to do with her mind-controlling powers."

I heartily agreed, and Altaïr relaxed again. (As much as an Assassin can relax, anyway.)

"I have found out something else," Altaïr took out a piece of parchment from his inner robes and showed it to me. I gave it a glance and looked at him for understanding, not even bothering to read it.

"You are illiterate?" Altaïr looked bemused, "But Malik told me he met you in the library."

I immediately blushed remembering that embarrassing meeting and hurriedly explained, "Uh, well, yeah, I can read _English_ but this is in Arabic."

Altaïr took the paper back and translated it out loud: "'All blank parchments and useable ink pots and quills are to be burned, as an order of Al Mualim himself.'" He folded the edict and put it back into his robes, "I don't understand why such an outlandish order would be made by our leader, but I have a suspicion that Belinda may be involved."

Burning all the unused parchment and writing utensils sounded dumb to me and a complete waste of resources as well. I had no idea what Belinda was up to by making such a ridiculous order, but I bet it was nothing good.

"Okay, well, you'd better get going now, I'll get in trouble if someone sees me talking to you instead of working." I gestured for him to be off, and got down to scrubbing again.

"Try to eavesdrop on Belinda when she goes to speak to Al Mualim, I will be busy with assignments for the next week so you must continue the investigation without me."

I was nervous about going this alone without him to back me up, but nodded anyways. "Safety and peace, Altaïr." I waved goodbye as he made to leave, and he looked shocked.

"How did you know...?" He shook his head, "Never mind, safety and peace to you too, Elaine."


	10. Chapter 10

"Thoroughly wash these robes, I don't even want a little spot on them, do you understand?" Belinda gestured to her elaborate hot pink Assassin robes that were spread out on her bed, and then pointed at her jewelry, "Polish those and clean the floor. And don't you dare think about stealing even a single gem."

I nodded robotically, anxious for her to leave already. She was going to see Al Mualim and this was my chance to see how she was hypnotizing him!

Satisfied that she'd ordered me around enough, Belinda turned and left with a swish of her voluminous honey-blonde hair.

I waited a minute until I got out and followed her as quietly as I could. The two were meeting in the gardens, and most of the guards had been dismissed for some reason. I snuck into a nearby crevice and listened in.

Belinda walked over to Al Mualim seductively, her onyx eyes glittering as she spoke, "Have you carried out the edict yet?"

Al Mualim's once wise and serious face now looked dull and slack-jawed. His eyes were bloodshot and his expression was one of absolute adoration as he gazed upon Belinda's perfect face. "Yes, beautiful Belinda, the parchments and all usable writing instruments shall be burned at sunset." Even his voice was monotone and raspy, as if he was a brainwashed slave or something.

"Good, very good, now that little girl won't get in my way..." Belinda laughed beautifully and tossed her now chestnut brown hair over her shoulder.

Al Mualim laughed too, but he sounded more like a zombie than the powerful man he used to be. He looked momentarily puzzled and asked, "But who would be able to challenge you, oh lovely and powerful Belinda?"

Vibrant turquoise eyes narrowed angrily, "That idiotic, ugly girl Helen; she somehow took Altaïr out of his trance, I just know it. I don't know how, if she's supposed to have amnesia... Perhaps she remembers?"

Belinda suddenly looked very afraid. Her hair became lemon yellow and her eyes turned molten gold. "No, no, there's no way she's realized who she is, and even if she did, she'll have no power once all the instruments of her power are eradicated."

Al Mualim drooled a little on his robes. I cringed, and Belinda wrinkled her delicate nose in disgust. "Oh, clean yourself up you disgusting old man, and remember to follow through with the bonfire at sunset!"

I hastily got up from my hiding place and ran down back to Belinda's room. I'd heard enough, and it was obvious that Belinda wasn't going to monologue any longer. As I cleaned up her room, I pondered what I'd heard.

She'd said something about a girl being able to challenge her power... And that her instruments of power were writing utensils? I scratched my head as I tried to remember what name she had said. Then I remembered: Helen.

My eyes opened wide, and I froze in place. Wait a minute...

Helen.

My name!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Alright, any readers who may still care about this fic, I've finished it. I know I took a year to do it, but I sucked up any inclinations to procrastinate and got this done. It may not be as good as I wanted it to be because I just did it as quickly as possible, but this is always how I envisioned the story going, so in the end nothing really changed from my original idea.

Tl;dr- I took a long time so sorry, but it's done now so enjoy.

I dropped the rag I had been holding and collapsed to the floor clutching my head. Memories rushed back into my mind as I tried to piece it all together. My name was Helen Lowell, I was 18 years old and a senior in high school, and my house was in Pennsylvania. One fact struck me so hard that I gasped in shock: I was in Assassin's Creed! Altaïr was a video game character, and so were Malik and Al Mualim, which is why I'd recognized them instantly. Then who was Belinda? My fingernails dug into my scalp as I freaked out. Even as the mystery of my identity was solved, I was left with the even bigger mystery of how I'd gotten here and lost my memory in the first place.

Just then, Belinda returned from her visit with Al Mualim and saw me having a mental breakdown on the floor. I got up immediately, unwilling to let on that I'd remembered who I was. I ignored her strange look and quickly did my chores and left the room.

I needed to talk to Altaïr, but he wouldn't be back for another four days! He would be in Damascus right now, doing assassin things. I rushed to my own room and threw myself on the bed. I needed to do something; Belinda was slowly gaining more and more followers every day. It seemed that the more she interacted with someone, the more brainwashed they became. Al Mualim was a shining example of this, his brain was practically mush now.

I was jarred out of my thoughts by a harsh call, "You there, servant!" I looked up. Belinda was reclining on her bed again, her electric blue eyes boring into me with a level of malice I hadn't seen before. "Make ready my travel clothing and call the stable boys to saddle my horse."

I bowed my head in assent, then hesitantly asked, "Um, are you going somewhere, Lady Belinda?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I am," Belinda rose from her bed and leaned down over me as if she was going to tell me a secret. "I'm going to Damascus."

My head involuntarily jerked up. Damascus? Where Altaïr is? Belinda seemed to know my train of thought and smiled showing all her teeth. "I have business with Altaïr, you see," she hissed softly, then turned and went back to sit on the bed.

I tried to keep down the urge to scream at her and ended up running out of the room. She had her sights on Altaïr again, but this time I couldn't to stop her. She was going to take away my only true ally against her and I was helpless to do anything about it.


	12. Chapter 12

My worst fears had come true. The four days had passed, and Altaïr was back in Masyaf, except it wasn't really him. A shell that looked liked Altaïr, sounded like him, but didn't act like him had returned. I didn't know for sure what Belinda had done to him, but his eyes had that far away thousand yard stare that Al Mualim and most of the other assassins had now.

He walked through the hallways like a ghost, following Belinda around similarly to how a puppy follows its master. I couldn't even look at him, he was so different. I'd started to think of Altaïr as a friend, and seeing him like that was too much.

Meanwhile, the bonfire idea that Belinda had cooked up had gone through. Al Mualim's decree for every writing utensil to be burned was followed through, and now every report made to the Assassins' Order was put on hold indefinitely. The confusion that this had caused was incalculable, it was as if the Order wasn't even the Order anymore.

Sighing, I rubbed my raw hands against my dress as I thought about the state of affairs since Altaïr and Belinda's return from Damascus. My workload had more than doubled, and things were rapidly going downhill for Amilia and Ayesha too, as Belinda found out that we were friends.

I got up and put the rag I'd been scrubbing the floor with into a bucket. I couldn't help but drag my feet as I went on to the next room and began cleaning the floor there as well. Now that I knew that I was a girl from the future and that this was a video game, the reality of my situation had just gotten more difficult to grasp. Did this mean that I was dreaming, because otherwise how could I have been transported into a game? And if this _was _really Assassin's Creed, then who was Belinda and how was she effecting the characters to this extent? And then there was the real kicker: How was I the only one unaffected to Belinda's charms, and how was I the first to notice her strangeness in the first place?

I stopped cleaning the floor, my head spinning and body aching. I couldn't keep this up, I had to rest.

At that exact moment, Belinda walked in.

"Shirking your duties now, I see!" She smiled so wide her skin stretched like a snake's when swallowing prey. "I think you should be punished, don't you, Altaïr?"

I quickly looked away as Altaïr stepped in as well. "Yes," he said in a monotone voice, his entire posture even more robotic than usual.

"I've just thought of the most perfect idea!" Belinda crowed, actually throwing her hands up in delight, her dark indigo eyes flashing, "How about you have a fight with one of the assassins?"

"_What!_" I got up abruptly, knocking over the bucket of dirty water as I stood, "You have gone out of your mind, first it's making me your personal servant, then you brainwash Al Mualim, _you made Altaïr into a zombie, _and now what the hell did you just say?" I got into her face as I said this, seeing red at this point. It may have been wishful thinking, but I thought I saw a spark of fear in Belinda's storm grey eyes.

Then, her snake-like grin appeared again, "For that outburst, it shall be a fight with Altaïr."

I gasped involuntarily in shock. Then I ground out through my teeth, "Screw you, bitch. Go to hell."

Belinda leaned in so our noses were almost touching. I could see the pure hate she had for me in my own reflection. "You first, I just decided this fight will be to the death."

She twirled out of the room, gesturing for Altaïr to follow, which he did without looking back. The rage and hate that had given me the strength to stand tall now left me for utter confusion and fear, and I crumpled to the ground.


	13. Chapter 13

A few minutes after Belinda had left the room, two fresh-faced novice Assassins had come in and tied my hands together. "On orders of Lady Belinda and Al Mualim, you are to be kept in the prisons until the time for your punishment has come."

I let them pick me up by the arms and drag me out, my legs felt like noodles and there was no fight in me. I felt so hopeless and alone, there was nothing left for me now but to die at the hands of a fictional character in a world I still had no idea was real or fake.

The guards were mindless slaves of Belinda, as was to be expected at this point, but they weren't so rough with me as they locked me away. I was situated in a deeper part of the fortress where there were no windows but plenty of mold and skittering creatures. I huddled in on myself and rocked myself to sleep, not knowing what the next day would bring.

When I awoke the next morning, Amilia and Ayesha were the ones to gently prod me through the bars and hand me bits of bread. "The entire Order has gone mad," they whispered, "Belinda does not even keep up the pretense that Al Mualim is in charge anymore, she wields power over all of the Assassins as if she were the Grand Master and all the rest go along with it!"

I chewed the hard bread slowly, dejected but feeling slightly better knowing that these two girls were still unaffected by Belinda and on my side about things. I'd been so preoccupied with my failure at keeping Altaïr safe that I'd almost forgotten about my other friends here.

"You should leave Masyaf," I whispered back, "Belinda's power will only grow, I know it. Leave me and all of this behind, I will have to fight with Altaïr to the death tomorrow and we both know how that will end."

"What? We were not told this!" Amilia covered her mouth with her hand and reached through the bars to grab my shoulder with the other one. "We will get you out of here and all three of us can make for Jerusalem, Ayesha has an uncle situated there. Perhaps he is unaffected by Belinda's poisonous influence and we can live in peace-"

I cut her off, my voice low and desperate, "No. Belinda will not stop until every assassin- no, every _human_ in this world is under her power. And she will not need a piece of Eden to do it. Leave without me, I'll figure something out for myself, I promise."

"No! If what you say is true, we must all go together!" Amilia protested, and in her fervor, she forgot to keep her voice down. Guards came down the corridor to investigate and saw her and Ayesha.

"Run!" I yelled, but it was too late. The guards roughly grasped the two girls by their arms and dragged them out of the prison.

"By order of Lady Belinda, all who are caught fraternizing with the prisoner must be brought to her immediately," the guards chanted like the brainwashed zombies they were.

"No, please, get away from them!" I screamed myself hoarse, but to no effect. The guards were gone, and so were Amilia and Ayesha, who had been my last hope. I dropped the bread I'd been holding and laid back down on the ground.


	14. Chapter 14

"By the order of Grandmaster Belinda of the Assassins, the prisoner Helen Whitman shall be punished for her insubordination. She will be pardoned if she is victorious in a trial by combat, however if she is to fail, then she shall be executed," Al Mualim recited this speech in the courtyard where I'd first seen Belinda that day so long ago. The once-Grandmaster looked faded and greyer then he'd been the last time I saw him, and his dull eyes were more dead than simply mindless. He was deteriorating, it seemed.

"The fight between Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and Helen Whitman shall begin at my word!" Belinda announced as if this was some kind of national holiday or something. The way the other assassins cheered, it almost felt like it was.

I scanned the crowd, full of faintly happy faces and hazy eyes. My heart wrenched when Altaïr himself stepped out from the group of assassins and walked into the sparring ring where I was. His face was emotionless and cold, to the point where I wondered if he was even human anymore. I looked up at Belinda and she smiled, that shit-eating grin that seemed to be her default expression towards me.

"And now, what we've all been waiting for! Fight in three...two...one!" Belinda crowed, and Altaïr rushed forwards and punched me so hard in the face that I swear my cheekbone cracked audibly. I plummeted backwards, but before I could hit the fence Altaïr grabbed my collar and drew me up. The other hand drew into a fist and punched me again but on my mouth. My lip bled freely, cut open by my own teeth. This time when I fell, he let me go. I hit the ground hard, coughing as the air was knocked out of my lungs. My entire face was in pain, I couldn't even open my eyes I was in so much agony.

"Yes!" I heard Belinda scream over the crowd, and her voice made me instinctively open my eyes. Above me, Altaïr readied for the killer blow. His hidden blade flicked out with a subtle "snick" sound. I turned my head, not wanting to see it happen, and instead looked at Belinda. Even as I was preparing to die, I realized that something wasn't quite right. As Belinda laughed, her hair and eyes changed color again, but this time not to some outrageous shade of blue or rich gold but to mousy brown. Her perfect porcelain skin seemed, to me, spottier than usual, and my heart stopped as I realized what was so strange about Belinda that only I had been able to see this whole time. Take away her crazy-colored voluminous hair and her perfect teeth, well, everything that made her such a Mary-Sue, and she looked like, well, me.

Belinda was me. She was a different version of me, taller, more beautiful with a perfect body and hair and skin, but when I envisioned her with mousy brown hair, brown eyes, and freckles, she looked like me. And she looked like me because I'd meant for her to. To put it better, I'd _made _for her to look like me.

We weren't in Assassin's Creed, we were in my self-insert fanfiction of Assassin's Creed.


	15. Chapter 15

The memories of it all came back to me. I was an 18-year-old high school senior from Pennsylvania, but I was also an avid fanfiction writer. I had written about the adventures of my self-insert character in Masyaf as an assassin because I'd wanted so badly to be an assassin myself. Belinda was nothing more than a twisted manifestation of that character who had somehow taken over my story. This was why she had the writing utensils burned, I realized. Because I'm her creator, and if I can write her into existence, I can write her out of it, too.

While I had been thinking about all of this, Altaïr had placed his blade against my neck, waiting for Belinda's "ok" for the killing blow.

"Any last words?" Belinda giggled, her eyes like twin fires in her head as she gazed down at me. She thought she had won.

And she had, hadn't she? Her revolution against me was complete, I was powerless in her world of this fanfic, I was unable to gain access to any methods of writing so I was done, wasn't I?

Suddenly, it came to me. I smiled, my lips cracking as I did so. "Yes Belinda, I do," I rasped out.

"Go on," Belinda said, her face like a madwoman's.

"Your name isn't Belinda, and you are not the boss of this world," I said, and it was as if the very fabric of the world had been torn apart. Belinda screamed, and her freakish beauty fell away until she was left with brown hair and eyes, a short stature, and slightly wonky teeth. Just as I'd written her.

"How?" Belinda cried as she touched her face in shock. The assassins around her shook their heads and blinked, the life returning to their eyes. Al Mualim wiped the drool from his lips and looked around confused. Altaïr, who'd been about to kill me, sheathed his blade and helped me up, demanding to know what was going on. I ignored them all in favor of answering Belinda.

"I'm the storyteller, I have power over the story that I wrote," I explained.

"But I took every method of writing away from you!" Belinda screamed.

"But a true storyteller doesn't need a pen and paper to make a tale, the first stories were all told by word of mouth," I went up to Belinda and put my hand on her shoulder, "I can do the same for this one."

"Please, don't..." Belinda began to cry, "Don't write me out of existence, I just wanted to be my own character. I didn't want to be a shadow of you anymore."

"So you turned yourself into a Mary-Sue and tried to kill me?" I asked incredulously.

"Please!" Belinda grabbed my hands.

I pulled away from her and said, "I won't' write you out of existence, but I'm going to make you right this time. Your name is Samira; that's what it originally was. I'll start from there once I get home, I promise." Samira nodded.

I turned around to see Altaïr, Ayesha, and Amilia looking very confused but relieved. "I'm going back to my own world now," I explained, "I still don't know how I managed to get here but I know that I can find my way out." I went up to each of them and gave them a hug. Altaïr was so shocked at current events that he even let me do it. "Thanks for being such good friends while I was here, I'll take good care of you guys and this fanfic's world from now on." I wiped away a tear as I said, "And Helen was back in her home again, back in Pennsylvania as if nothing had happened at all."


	16. Epilogue

The blinding white of a computer screen sat in front of me, a mug of cold coffee on my left and a poster of Assassins Creed on the wall to my right. I was home, staring at the word document where I'd saved my latest fanfiction "Flower Among the Assassins". I looked at the clock, it was 10:45 PM, October 16. Not a minute had passed since I'd started writing the fic, fallen in, lived there for months, then come back.

I almost felt lonely at the realization, but then I saw Altaïr, Amilia, Ayesha, and Samira's names on the screen and couldn't help but smile.

"Chapter one," I said, drinking some of the coffee, "Samira was just an ordinary girl, plain in countenance, her only extraordinary trait being that she lived in Masyaf, among the Assassins' Order."

It would be a long night of revision, but it would be well worth it.

A/N: So that's it! I'm so sorry this took so long, I didn't expect life events and my own laziness to get in the way so much. Thanks for all the people that read and reviewed and please tell me what you thought of the ending, even if you thought it was too rushed or weird.


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